The Poetry Marathon

Every Time

Every Time!
Virginia Carraway Stark

Every time I have begun
It’s time to begin again
Every time I think I’m done
I find I’m half undone
every time I’m half done
I become undone again!
Becoming done is half the fun
Becoming undone isn’t such a rerun
But running is a lot of fun
Especially if it’s in the trees
and not in a loop
Or backwards
Or forwards
But rather in whatever direction
I want to go
Trees whipping me in the face
And truly nothing getting done at all!
That’s the most fun at all
And then; panting for air
I haven’t earned
And falling all over myself
I know I’ve come completely undone
I laugh and fall onto the ground
For I’ve done the very thing
I was trying not to do
But in the most fun way of all
That is how it happens
That every time I have begun
I have to begin again
Every time I am undone
I happily begin again!

Hour #10, Prompt 13

In the hush of early morning fog,
a single moonbeam barely sufficed
to light my way toward the dock.

In deed, I tripped on the concrete step
as a less-than-muted DAMN! escaped my lips.
Perhaps, had I downed less coffee in previous hours

(the old Army surplus canteen managed to keep it
surprisingly warm and invigorating), I would have
been steadier on my feet.

sarahw

Prompt #9

Our lives are terribly tiny.
raise your glass in honor,
to celebrate
every human emotion, and flaw,
every achievement and failure.
Such a human condition,

The essence of a person’s life can
be merely encapsulated in a few
simple and humble words.
Describing with accuracy the complications
of our intertwined lives.

-Janice Raquela Mendonca

10. The Messenger X

The last day, just before…

Before the Great Collapse

I am with you

You’re not snoring – for once

The last day, we already feel

The lack of breath in the fins

The last day we are still together

I tell you “Look at me in the eyes… deep inside”

I’m not the one you believe I am

Quite the opposite

How didn’t you guess?

After all this time

It’s too late

Now

We’ll never be together again

The Players

So many fantastic stretches

rise before me full of

bones and tattered bridges that

break no one’s falls

 

I’ve asked sweet things

of terrible people and had the

nerve to play victim to

their inevitable disinterest

 

We pity fools for playing

their part without the courage

to admit our own roles

in the pages we write

caffeinated dreams

moonbeams in my coffee

soon the hush, will fall over

the concrete jungle

 

And the damn fog

will come rolling in

upon the dock

 

pouring from an

empty canteen

she’ll set the finished works

on the dusty shelf of fir

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Entry 10 Half-Marathon 00.00 EU time – Joking

.

There were once seven bears –

three were black, three were polar,

one was bi-polar.

 

The remains of my day –

one boiled egg, left-over corn flakes,

a dab of butter

 

The remains after surgery –

one left ventricle, four optic nerves,

a handful of vertebrae

.

Children of Blood and Bone

On the day Mary was alone

She tried to create her clone

She worked with deep brown soil

Slaving away in wasted toil

‘Cos Man was dust plus life force

A special blend of blood and bone

 

Peace

Poem 9

Peace

By: Ashley L Powers

 

Solitude

Stillness

Alignment

Lightness

Frequencies freely flowing

Enjoyment

Laughter

Reclaiming everything once stolen

Completeness

Fulfillment

Positive vibes

Connection

Exiting the matrix

Joyous moments

Mindfulness

All the things needed to take back…..

 

….my inner peace ☮️

Story

poem 10

I still remember how you looked
the night we first met,
your golden eyes illuminated in the moonbeams.
Something about the way you smiled
made me feel things,
like I was standing at the edge of a dock,
about to dive,
unsure what I would encounter in the depths.
First friends, then lovers,
our memories were made between the hush of the summer’s breeze
and the fog that drifted up from our coffee.
As time passed by,
yours was the face I looked for in a crowd
and the smile I longed for
on lonely days.
We faded,
like autumn leaves;
our love was most beautiful
before it fell apart.
I met you in the moonlight
and lost you in the blinding light of day.
Years have passed,
but I still have your picture on my shelf.

-h.e.m.